3d5e44b257578850726dffec1e5af373If we are honest

few things are honest anymore

everything is manipulated or

viewed through a lens

where is truth?

truth isn’t what most people want

not really

if a woman says

do my thighs look big in this?

is she asking for truth? or encouragement?

sometimes truth burns

sometimes it’s like an assault

if you live in the path of truth too long

you become immune to its sting

and nothing can hurt you anymore

but freedom

is not for everyone


the truth was

she hadn’t loved me in an eternity

if at all

whilst that felt like acid on my soul

it released the hope

to find another host

someone maybe who wasn’t being lied to

told she was the most beautiful

told she hadn’t aged a day

told she was the only one

how often is that so in a crowded world?

Disney would have us believe


but love

the real kind that doesn’t like the over-used name

that love is rarer than anything

maybe it doesn’t touch every person

you have to be capable of it

few are

it takes a humility of spirit and a depth

this society doesn’t encourage


the only way forward

listen to your gut

the feeling of worms and knives being turned

tells you when something isn’t right

even if others protest so loudly

it splits darkness from night

hold on to your truth

it’s there on the edges of deception

always reflecting never concealing

how easy it is

to believe someone when they say

it will only ever be you

there will be no one else

you are irreplaceable

how easy to want that to be true


but we are only savages playing in

high heels and wigs

we are wolves sitting at wooden pews

kneeling before weeping effigies

is it any wonder they cry for us?

we are children licking our sticky fingers

and plundering the honey jar

we are humans without conscience

if we briefly entertain it

soon we’re running in the opposite direction

for it takes the end of ego to

go to war with illusion

far better to sup on the drug that promises

a less sorrowful life


who wants to believe they are not

the one who will be loved

the one who will be held dearly

who wants to believe it might not

happen to them?

rather we deceive ourselves gladly

for one toke of the pipe

one last hit

a quick injection of bliss

to believe even as the voice inside says

this is not real

the fantasy, the fairy tale

we grew up thinking showed us

the future

as faulty as a soothsayer

gazing into empty crystal

there are no answers in lies


so when she told you

you were everything to her

she omitted the part that came after

unless you’re no longer

in which case another

will in time replace you

and you will walk alone as you

always have

wondering why

your heart was built of


prickling from the



29 thoughts on “Fur

  1. Dear Wallace, that means so much you saying that, I long admired your work as you know, and so for you to say you were captivated by this, well thank you so much for saying so, you just made me so happy.

  2. It seems you are speaking from your heart today. If so, remember tomorrow is another day. Excellent poetry❤️

  3. ”I am permitted to see the dawn of another year. And I am thankful that I may read your writings that can touch even the deepest part of my life. Over all the unopened years of my heart – I could not dare to even believe that someone could reach in and open life up. Like a light being shone into my soul- There can be no experience of friendship until someone is willing to go the extra mile- And when you do go the extra mile- it is seldom crowded.I am conscious of my weaknesses- My utter despair for truth and reality. It is when we give to others- and the return is emptiness. Then it is when sorrow grips me once again- and I find some remote place to walk and to think. We think we can never go on anymore- That the sun can never shine for us again( for me) I desire always to walk erect and unwearied- along life’s paths, I read your blogs with delight because they are real. Also within my heart the Italian in me cries out for- that deep emotional communication. To laugh, to cry, to argue and move forward. I maybe expect too much from life- but your writing’s reveal to me – that I am fine- a little naive maybe- but love will always shine forth in any real friendship. Thank you for taking the time to write and express more. I am humbled. . Robert Vincent

  4. I need to study this for a little while before I can tell if it makes sense to me or if it even applies to me and the shallow end of the pool I live in. I have the feeling that I could die in the depths of your words. Or maybe live. I’m not sure which side of the curtain I’m on yet. Let me read it again.

  5. Okay – I think I get it. It’s about relationships – the beginnings and endings of them. It’s about whether it’s better to lie (and please) or tell the truth (and offend) and what those things mean in the long term. It’s about love and loss but also about love and hope too. It’s about the way there are no certainties in love. It’s about the wild side of our nature and the ways that, despite our inherent strength, we run and hide (and lie and cheat) when things get too much.
    I don’t get this bit, though – “hold on to your truth

    it’s there on the edges of deception

    always reflecting never concealing”

    I love the ending. I love the way that makes me feel. I have to go and eat now. 🙂
    Kindness – Robert.

  6. Agreed, love wins out. But can also hurt us, the luck is if someone loves you enough and not just words. I agree, the pain is when you give and someone doesn’t feel the same.

  7. Your presence is so powerful, your words are real in a way that few things are in this world.
    I’m so glad I discovered you, I must have read every post on your blog and found not a word of it wasted my time. Thank you
    Lately I have been run ragged by life and find precious few moments alone to write, and I have found myself instead strolling in your groves with your whispers all around me in the trees. Your writing has been a balm to my battered muse.
    You are a REAL person, and it is comforting for me to be here in your prose, like sitting with a dear friend without speaking, drawing strength from the nearness of heart.
    Your pen hand reaches down to stroke the fur of my beast, and I recall the smell of the forest where once I ran four footed and wild. Thank you
    May you be blessed always

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